Dance Upon a Faery Mound
by Ms Llewellyn
Summary: Severus, found as spy, is close to death, when he's dumped on Keltar land. Only to be found by Tessa Black, daughter of Amadan/Adam Black. Everything Happens for a reason, as they are about to find out. SS/TB KMM Highlander Crossover.
1. Prologue

**_Dance Upon a Faery Mound_**

**_A.N /Disclaimer: _**_I own nothing of Harry Potter, if I did, I'd be rich and Severus Snape would be mine. But alas, no, I can only borrow and have fun with the character, pity. I also own nothing related to Karen Monings works, that includes Tessa Black - though, I guess you could say I own her personality, considering she's like five in the book. And here she's like twenty-four. I do own the youngest black child, well, kind-of, once again, said child was in womb when book was written, technically its mine. I get to name it. LOL. Eryn Black. Conner Ain't mine, only his grown up personality, actually that goes for the Keltar kids as well (have to find names for them.)_

**_Summary: _**_ Severus, found as spy, is close to death, when he's dumped on Keltar land. Only to be found by Tessa Black, daughter of Amadan/Adam Black, a Sidhe-seer. Everything Happens for a reason, as they are about to find out._

**_Prologue_**

**_December 22, 12:00 am, Unknown Location, United Kingdom, Britain._**

By the Gods!

Pain laced through Snape's body. It trembled and ached for relief, but none was forth coming. A swift kick met his ribs, another his temple and his already blurry vision developed black dots. Harsh laughter and muttering whispers swept across his hearing, but he was in too much pain to make out anything.

For people who hated muggles, they enjoyed doing things the muggle way. But then again, this wasn't about the muggle way, this was about power. With each kick, each muscle dealing a blow, power and strength and adrenaline flooded the body, intoxicating it, making it feel as if nothing could stop it.

How did he know? He was like them once, along time ago - when youth made him idiotic. Glory! Power! Respect! None of it came from joining a group who dressed up like children on Halloween. He learned not to hate his muggle heritage, if not for it he could have developed some birthing defect from the constant inbreeding that most Pure-Bloods do. Everything he desired, he could have gotten himself, he was such a fool at sixteen. But then again, he was overcome with heartache over the love of his life, his sweet Lily Evans. He would have laughed bitterly if he could get enough air into his lungs, he knew better now - Lily Evans, no Lily Potter, was a poison.

But it was his fault Lily and James were dead. His fault a little boy was left without parents. Spying had been his atonement. His escape from guilt. But now it was fruitless. Their was no redemption, no freedom in his future - he had murdered the greatest wizard alive. Albus Dumbledore. A man he loved like he were his own father, a mentor and his only friend. The only man to ever vouch for him, to ever believe in him, to ever trust him. The only soul alive to give him a second chance. The man who saved him from Azkaban, become his one way ticket.

Physical pain wasn't the only pain to flood his system at the thought of the old wizard. A swoosh lit the air followed by the heat and weight of something solid onto his back - if he took a guess, he'd say it was Lucius' snake-headed cane, a gift from the Dark Lord many years prior.

His duplicity out in the open - his alliance known. He failed. He had the students to protect; he knew they hated him, wished him dead. If only they knew the trouble it took to keep them alive and not mindless drones drooling into their oatmeal. It was so hard. He had promised - it looks like he couldn't keep it.

Sorry Albus, so sorry, his mind whispered into the nether.

He didn't notice the stillness around him, his mind elsewhere, his body yelling at his mind that it was in pain. He never noticed the tears that left tracks and continued to fall. He didn't notice the Dark Lord enter the room, his skinny frame tall and regal, his snake like face twisted into a malicious smile, his red eyes gazing at him.

But he did notice the hissing that filled the room and the large snake that slithered into his fading eyesight. Negini. A magically enhanced Giant Burmese python. Dear Merlin, were they going to feed him to her like Charity Burbage? Parseltongue had always unsettled him - it was just unnatural. It left one questioning just what the megalomaniac and his pet snake were discussing. Probably the best way to eat him.

"Poor Severus." cooed the Dark Lord as he lifted his face from the dungeon floor with one of his skeletal hands, while the other free hand trailed the tip of his wand down his cheek. Severus couldn't stop the flinch that racked his body or the sob that stole his breath.

"I had such faith in you, you were so promising. I can see how I have fallen before your tricks; only like can fool like." Voldemort released him and his head slammed into the hard stone of the dungeon floor. Voldemort turned and paraded around the room, his words echoing across the large dungeon space.

"Though not many can kill their own friends, how was it? Liberating? We are the same in that fashion. But their is a difference between us. It is regrettable that I alone could not satisfy that which you craved. What did that old fool offer you that I could not? Never mind. It's not all that important. It is not the fact that you deceived me, Severus, I would have done the same I have no doubt. It irks me that you could hide secrets from I, a Master Legilimens. I now understand how you've continued to fail in retrieving the boy for me. Such lies you've weaved, Half-blood. Tell me, how does it feel to lay at my feet, defeated and about to die? Tell me, what are the Orders Secrets? Where is Potter?"

Severus remained silent, his chested heaved for breath and he could feel the cold seep through his tattered robes. His body shook with tremors, sweat beaded at his brow and blood ran in rivulets onto the dungeon floor. Voldemort inscenced at his silence, swirled around in a flurry of robes, his white skeletal bone wand raised and he hissed the first curse to come to mind; a personal favorite of his.

"CRUCIO"

Severus jerked as the spell hit him, he could feel it embedding itself within his skin tissues delving deep to incinerate the nerves and as it claimed its destination with a ferocity that could rival Minerva McGonagall at her fiercest.

Pain unlike anything ever felt burned him alive. His screams pierced the air, anguish coating it. Soon those screams turned to animalistic howling, then into inhuman shrieks. Fire burned his body and boiled his blood - his mind itched and inflamed. It was an immortal agony, it seemed as if it would never end. It stole his breath. He was sure if it didn't stop soon, it would steal his mind and soon his life. As his muscles contracted tightening on his already thin bones, he felt tendons snap, and bones bend and splinter.

"Answer me!" Voldemort hissed as he ended the curse. But Severus was beyond coherent thought, his body incensed with pain, his mind clouded. He was beyond speech.

He sobbed as he choked for breath. He knew nothing, felt nothing, other than the pain. He was the pain and it was him. There was no difference between them. Scowling and quickly loosing patience, Voldemort flicked his wand, Severus released a pathetic mewl as his body became suspended mid-air. He coughed and he tasted blood upon his tongue.

Voldemort stepped forward his hands reaching out cupping Severus' face almost tenderly at first glance, but soon a groan of pain escaped the dark wizard as the Dark Lords nails dug into the flesh of that which he cupped. Voldemort forced his swollen eyes open. Black eyes dilated, whites stained pink. Tears and sweat and blood marred his vision of the Dark Lord as said monster locked eyes with him. He found himself drowning in the monsters bloody gaze.

"If you will not speak, then I will retrieve what I require forcefully. Legilimens..."

White hot pain blinded him and he screamed as the Dark Lord forced himself passed his shields. And soon all his secrets lay bare. The Order, Hogwarts, His thoughts and feels, his heritage. Flecks of blood spattered onto the Dark Lords face as each secret tore a scream from Severus.

"My, my, my it would seem that our dear Potions Master has been hiding secrets, not only from us, but from his comrades in arms as well. Such deception Severus. But you see Severus, you aren't the only one keeping secrets so close." Voldemort hissed as he ended the spell.

"You see, I've learned through the years that placing all your eggs into one basket, that they tend to break. I know of Potter's goal. The thing is, he can find and kill all of my Horocruxes, but that still doesn't mean he can finish me. No. I have finally found it, after all these years - the possibility of immortality. It's within my grasp. Soon, no one can stop me.

Not you, or your pathetic Order. I will rise above and you will all fall before me, begging for me to spare you. What say you Severus, if I let you live, will you beg?"

But Severus was far beyond listening to him monologue. Too caught up in his own pain to ever consider the words that were spewing from his lipless mouth.

"Hmmm, somehow, I don't think you will. Lucius..." Voldemort turned to the platinum blonde aristocrat, who had his silver eyes trained on the battered body of his friend. Betrayal and Pain and hatred swirling in his gaze.

"My Lord?" Lucius left his place beside Bellatrix, who cackled and licked her lips as they racked over Severus body, her mad eyes lit with a sick fascination and excitement.

"It's time to earn your place once again, and make up for that pathetic boy of yours - though, I suppose he did get my Death Eaters into the castle." The Dark Lord contemplated his wand smacking his cheek lightly. "Take away the Half-blood, dump his body somewhere, let nature take the rest of him. Should he live, well -" Suddenly a silver blade materialized before the Dark Lord, it glowed a faint aura of blue, Celtic knotting laced the handle and the blade itself was etched with ruins. He turned swiftly on his heel and slammed the blade just below Severus' rib cage, it slid easily into place. Severus coughed as the pain made itself known, blood sliding from the corner of his mouth down his cheek.

"- at least, he'll never forget his punishment. Do you understand, Lucius, if you fail, you will meet the very same fate."

"Of course, My Lord." Lucius said bowing, his blonde hair spilling over his shoulder like water.

With a lazy wave of his wand, the Dark Lord released Severus from the spell and with a resounding bang, he landed heavily. Ragged coughing and choked sobbing washed away the Dark Lords monologue and the silent laughter that fell from Skeletal masks of the Dark Lords eternally faithful. But the look in the creatures blood red eyes, that he would never install such faith in them as he had once in the man that now lay dying behind him. Never again would fool himself into thinking, he could trust one of his followers. They were nothing but thieves and beggars and dungeon rats - they were Slytherin's first and foremost.

Lucius approached the man, his eyes trained on the straining swollen face, the twitching body. And with an irritated flick and a quite moblicorpus the thin damaged body rose into the air and followed him as he headed towards the door, he was halted by his Lord.

"Oh, I almost forgot. A parting gift for our dear friend," Voldemort did a complicated series of wrists movements that ended in a sharp jab and he hissed the smell that eveloped the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. "Eterna Expergenfactus."

"I'd leave him somewhere muggle, but not too close wouldn't want him to be found so soon." Lucius glanced from the body to his Lord and he bowed before he excited the room with a soft,

"Yes, My Lord."


	2. Chapter 1

**Dance Upon a Faery Mound**

**_A.N /Disclaimer/Summary: _**_Refer to Prologue. Oh I understand the timeline, age, thing aren't adding up but ignore it - actually ignore all of The Fever Series, in this story, it never happened. They don't exist in this timeline. Except for Christian, we'll make him 30. Yes, I'm screwing with his age, because if I stick too it, he'd be 40! And already found his mate or whatever. - my timeline is so confusing!_

_"I loved a woman once, and I will never love someone like that again."_

**Chapter One**

**_December 22, 12:00 am, Unknown Location, Britain, United Kingdom._**

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy didn't know what to feel other than Betrayal, pain, and hatred. The friendship that he may have felt before, had virtually vanished upon Severus' deception.

As he walked across the Dark Lords latest hiding/meeting place's lawn, he thought he knew the man behind him. Sarcastic and Bitter, Cunning and Ambitious, a true Slytherin through and through, even if he weren't a Pure-Blood. But no, the man turned out to be more Gryffindor instead.

A Lion in Snake Skin.

If he thought back on it, he bet it was the Mudblood Evans who tainted his mind. He had watched Severus run after the Evans chit like a dog, year after year, until Lucius himself graduated. It was degrading how he panted after her. He could understand her sexual appeal, fiery red hair and bright viridian eyes, curves in all the right places - if only she weren't a Mudblood or a Gryffindor, perhaps even he would have chased her tail a time or two and possibly succeeded in alluring her to his bed.

But Lily Potter nee Evans couldn't hold a candle to his sweet, beautiful Narcissa with warm blue eyes and duel colored hair, her thin curvaceous body, her caring personality. And her calculating manner that not only applied in business but also extended to the bedroom. She was a dream to the Malfoy family's ideal woman, a woman so very Slytherin - impenetrable on the outside, pliable as mud on the inside. And she gave him a beautiful son, even if said son was a bit of a failure. But if Lucius allowed himself to dwell on such thoughts, he'd admit if only to himself - his son, was not fit to be a Death Eater, he just didn't have the emotional strength to deal with torture and death.

If only the Malfoy pride had allowed him to hide his son away - or drown him at birth. Draconis Lucius Malfoy would never have taken the mark and allowed the Malfoy name to be drug through the mud. Not even now, walking past the gates of the mysterious estate, through virgin snow would Lucius Malfoy admit it wasn't just his son that drug his families name through the mud, but also him and every other ancestor in the Malfoy burial plot.

The Malfoy's were notorious for being supporters of Dark Lords for centuries, and if not that, then for being wholly into the essence that was the Dark Arts. Draco, seemed to be the only true redeeming light, but fate and circumstances had stolen it from the Malfoy's.

_Without a doubt,_ Lucius thought_, the Malfoy name won't survive this war should the dark Lord be vanquished. _

With a sigh, he reached out one pale hand and gripped the tattered shoulder of the man he thought of as a friend. A look of disgust twisted his regal features and with a quarter turn he vanished with his cargo, leaving nothing behind but a swirl of virgin snow that landed gently upon the unsettled snow.

When Lucius next appeared he was in a crop of trees and standing a few feet ahead Standing Stones reminiscent to that of Stonehenge lay bare before his sight. His eyes narrowed - he'd never seen this place, Stonehenge was by far larger. He shrugged and with a lazy flick, Severus hit the snowy earth. No sound but a gurgle from the battered Potions Master reached the Politicians ears.

With one last glance with impassive eyes he turned to leave, but paused.

"I pray that you live, Severus, not because you are deserving, but because against everything that has come to light - you protected my son, as your duty as his Godfather demanded. Should you survive, I will tell you this, stay away from Draco and the Manor, in essence stay away from the Malfoy line. And before I forget.

I, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, hereby retract the name of Godfather to, Draconis Lucius Malfoy, from, Severus Tobias Snape, from this day forward. So mote it be." He whispered. "If or When we meet again, Snape, it will be at wand point." And the Aristocrat disappeared with a crack.

Severus could feel the magic working just beneath the haze of pain. The magic itself was warm, but the feeling it gave as the Malfoy Sr. retracted the vow of Godfather hood, left a sadness that could have made him cry. It was as if he had lost a son.

Against popular belief, Severus Snape, didn't have a black heart, it was there in tatters beneath his breast. It still felt. He had come to love the child, Draco, as best as any broken man could. He had felt a parents disappointment when he had made mistakes - when Draco had taken the Dark Mark, he had wanted to hit the boy, scream at him for selling his soul to a mad man. For damning himself to a life of servitude and a nice cell deep within the bowls of Azkaban. The boy would not survive, the boy, no matter how hard it was to admit, but often the truth hurts, Draco was weak.

But he was not the father of the child, he couldn't do anything to save him; the boy had not taken the olive branches he had given to save the boy's life. Were they to subtle for the boy? He supposed he'd never know.

Severus could feel unconsciousness creep upon him and just when it was about to drag him in, it halted, teasing him. At the edge, he swung. He couldn't fall into eternal darkness, couldn't get rid of the pain. Something was stopping him from submitting to his bodies demands.

**_December 22, 12:00 am, Older Castle Keltar, Inverness, Highlands, Scotland, United Kingdom._**

Tessa Black cursed beneath her breath.

It was cold, snow was seeping in through her shoes. She'd have frost bitten toes before the winter solstice rituals were over, but it would be worth it, she couldn't help but amend. She enjoyed coming to Scotland on Holidays, she enjoyed watching the Solstice and Equinox rituals her 'proverbial' Uncles Dageus, Drustan,Christopher, and Cian performed to uphold the Treaty between this world and the Faery realm.

This year she came alone, her mother, father, sister and brother back in Cincinnati, Ohio. Of course, the only reason she could even come to Scotland was because she was already in the country studying at the University of Edinburgh for a Masters in Archaeology with minors in Celtic and Scottish studies and Divinity and Religious Studies. She termed this jaunt in the woods as research. No matter how many times she's watched before.

Ahead of her, the four large bodies of her adopted Uncles seemed to fill the forest as they prowled towards the Keltar Standing stones. It was understandable how she could have crushed on all four of them at some point in her young life - they were gorgeous. Tall and muscular and all man. With fascinating eye coloring and hearts made of gold. They were warriors from across time, except for Christopher, he was your modern day highlander. But the others were powerful, dominant and absolutely out of this century.

Men like them, don't exist anymore.

Tessa almost gave into a childish whine of 'It wasn't fair!' that she hadn't done since she was fourteen at that thought.

Tessa's father was also one of those kinds of men, of course he wasn't human in the beginning. And the times before her mother tamed his wild soul - he played with men like the Keltar's and started many battles in Scotland's bloody past. When Tessa was old enough to see the Fae, her mother told her of the secrets that ran from one O'Callaghan woman to another, Sidhe-seer. Gifts, that in the ancient times, were bestowed upon women to alert and protect their kinsman to the faeries arrival - they would hear them coming upon the wind. Her mother taught her how to see them, but not look at them. How to admire, yet not give away she noticed them. How to hide. If they knew, she'd be dead.

They too were incredibly beautiful, perfect in every way. They were unnatural, immortal, deadly creatures that toyed with the human race when they were bored. They didn't understand human emotion, or at least that's what her father told her when she asked him at the tender age of sixteen. Apparently, the Fae don't have souls. Her father once described that mortals glowed like the sun, their souls shinning, illuminating their skin from the inside out.

Her father used to be a Faery Prince of the Seelie court, house of the D'Jai, one of the most feared. In her mother's library their is a whole book dedicated to him - the Sidhe-seer's used to call him Sin Siriche Du, the most feared and unpredictable of his race. Now he was simply a man, soul and all. And she just could not see her father as some soulless, trickster. Her father was no longer that man, he was better. And she was proud of him.

Tessa was knocked from her thoughts by a loud crack that pierced through the still air like a gunshot. As she looked up to ask her 'Uncles' what in the name of Draghar that noise was, she cursed. They weren't in front of her. They were gone, she lost them in her moment of contemplation.

"This is just fantastic." she whispered, pulling her coat closer around her. She never noticed it before, but the woods surrounding the Keltar Standing Stones of Ban Drochaid and Castle Keltar itself, was daunting and intimidating. Shadows played and danced among the trees and the snow glittered beneath the moons light_. It was a beautiful contrast,_ she noted_. _It would be even better if the snow wasn't disturbed by large foot prints that belonged to her wandering uncles.

"Men!" she muttered anxiously as she followed the prints. "Don't notice a girls missing, unless she was naked beforehand." The woods were hard to navigate through in the dark. But then again she never wanted to be out after dark in them before, only these solstice and equinox rituals could drag her through such a place.

She jumped a foot in the air and landed with a thud as she lost her footing when another sharp Crack! lit the air. She stayed still for a moment, the chill of the Scottish snow seeping in through her pants. That sounded a lot closer than before.

By Danu, Tessa prayed there wasn't a hunter roaming the forest. She wasn't exactly dressed to be a giant reflective highlighter. Standing up and gathering her wits, she pulled courage out of thin air and continued on.

"Drustan, Dageus, Chris, Cian!" she snapped into the stillness as she trudged forward. The forest getting darker as dark clouds crept across the midnight sky and began to cover the crescent moon. The air grew cooler and she could smell it on the air, snow. It would suck to be caught out here in the snow.

"Hello! Anybody!" she hollered. She didn't know why they couldn't do this in the morning, when there was light. Something about the season being at its peak or something. She should have grabbed a flashlight. She squinted at the footprints as one by one they disappeared into the growing darkness.

Her heart lept into her throat as the trees rustled and the bushes rattled. It wasn't the wind, it couldn't have been the wind. _There _was no wind! She swallowed thickly, it wasn't that she was scared of the dark - the dark she could handle, it was the mysteries in the darkness she didn't like. A shadow moved on the corner of her eye and she bolted. She didn't dare stay and see what it was. It could have been anything, a hunter, a stranger, an axe murderer on the loose that escaped an asylum, it could've been wolves. She didn't like wolves, not since she was a little girl.

A dog about the size of a car attacked her, she got a good sized scar on her leg as a reminder. Of course her childish mind over exaggerated the size of the dog and really it was only the size of a small Pomeranian. A Pomeranian on steroids or Prozac or some such drug. It was cute, it was fast, it was a plain ball of evil fur. A howl went up in the distance. Wolves!

By Danu and the Tuatha de Danaan, there were wolves in the forest! Great, she was quickly becoming lost even if she's walked the woods by day countless times during her visits, and she was going to become wolf-chow. She had never imagined herself dying this way.

Hell she hadn't even found her soul-mate, her one true love! Dammit, she hadn't found her cherry-popper yet. She was too young too die.

Too caught up in her own fear, she failed to realize that something obstructed her path and tripped and fell hard face first into the snow. Hissing as she twitched and flipped on her back, she stared into the dark expanse of sky and groaned.

"Ow," she moaned, her knee ached. What the hell did she trip over. Lifting herself up on her elbows, she peered a few feet in front of her at the large lump of black amongst the darkness. As the clouds moved away from the moon, and its light lit the earth. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened.

There a lump of cloth as black as night, flayed and tattered enclosed a trembling, bleeding body, who moaned and gurgled in pain and quickly the snow surrounded the body was quickly turning crimson. There was only on thing she could do.

She screamed.


	3. Chapter 2

**_Dance Upon a Faery Mound_**

**_A.N/Dis_**

**Dance Upon a Faery Mound**

**_A.N /Disclaimer/Summary: _**_Refer to Prologue. Okay, The Compact between the Keltar's and the Faery, is upholded on Samhain (aka, Halloween), but I have tweaked it. It is every Solstice and Equinox, which means the treaty is upholded four times a year instead of one. Only because I forgot it was only done on Halloween. Okay, don't discount all of the Fever Series, there are some useful artifacts I'm contemplating on using. Just dont expect all the characters like Mac and Barrons. But count on Sidhe Inc. I need their Twenty-one Libraries._

__Pain eclipsed his mind.__

**Chapter Two**

**_December 22, 12:30 am, New Castle Keltar, Inverness, Highlands, Scotland, United Kingdom_**

Ian Llewellyn McFarley was the oldest standing person, along side his wife, at Castle Keltar - had been their longer than Dageus and Drustan and their lasses and their children. It was an ongoing joke that it was more Castle McFarley than Keltar as there were more McFarley's residing in the halls of the castle than there was Keltar's.

Ian McFarley was reaching his seventieth year, his hair had long since turned white and wispy, balding at the crown and his skin had become wrinkled and leathery with age like a good raw-hide saddle. He glanced over at his wife, who lay beside him bundled amongst the duvet of their bed - her creamy wrinkled skin standing stark in the lamp light and her hair as long and fading as his own. She was still as beautiful and plump as the day she married him. A fiery-lass in her days, a proud fierce mother and grandmother. She was a woman the gods had sent to him and he lost himself in their gift time and time again.

He may be approaching seventy, but she still managed to stir the stallion between his legs with a flip of her maine, a giggle there, and a demur look from beneath her thick eyelashes that framed her baby blue eyes. A strong weathered hand reached out and snagged a graying stand of hair. The scent of heather and mountain rain filling his nose as he twisted the strand between his fingers. It was the scent of home and rightness. He saw rolling fields colored purple in spring and mists falling across the valley in the early mornings of dawn.

There were many things he could still do and would do till the day he died, like serve the Keltar's and bed his wife, hug his kids and tell stories to his grandchildren. But being woken from the moony-eyed gazing of his wife, by a frantic american approaching the hour of half past twelve, he could have done without. But he groaned and left the comfort of his wife, who shifted and muttered unpleasantly as she was drug from the arms of Morpheus.

"Shh, go back to sleep." he muttered bending down, placing a kiss upon her petal lips. Smiling he watched her quickly drift, just as quickly as she woke and turned an irritated glance towards the American. Better known as Tessa Black. Her eyes wide, her skin pale, her hair mussed, her chest heaving, her clothes wet and snow melting onto the floor. She looked wild and untamed, perhaps a tad bit mad. He gestured her out of the room and closed the door gently behind him.

"Well?" he said impatiently. Whatever needed his attention had better be worth the effort he took to crawl out of his bed and into the drafty castle on this winters night.

"It's Christopher, he's needing your assistance. Immediately." She swallowed thickly her body trembled as the image snaked its way to the forefront of her mind. "He's in the study." Ian nodded and turned, but glanced over his shoulder at the girl.

"You okay, Lass?" he said. She nodded, a jerky motion that was stiff and unyielding. He nodded and vanished down the hall.

* * *

><p>Tessa Black was far from okay.<p>

Her heart was pounding, chills wracked her body, water drenched her clothes. But it was the image of the brutilized body that wouldn't vanish from her minds eye. The blood that painted the snow seemed to paint the back of her eyelids and she shuttered. She had never seen anything more horrifying than that thin man, trembling, choking on his own blood in the snow. The thought of the red life essence that seemed to coat everything within two inches of the man and the man himself made her nauseous. She never liked the sight of blood. She wasn't one of those girls that fainted; it just didn't sit right with her. Blood wasn't supposed to coat the earth like a macabre painting, it was to stay in the body, pump through veins.

This was not how she imagined her Christmas vacation. Slowly she came back to herself and moved away from the McFarley's bed chambers and let her feet guide her to her room. The room she always occupied while she visited. To her, staying at Castle Keltar was like a novel experience. Not just anybody lived in a bonnified castle and not just anyone could visit one, much less stay in one on a whim. But to her, tonight none of this existed. Not the tapestries that hung from the walls, not the ancient old relics that were propped up on random walls; the whole castle lost its mythical glow, it was transparent.

She pushed her door open. And gazed sightless, she stood in the middle of the room, her chest heaving. She was short of breath and her eyes were heating uncomfortably, but it was not an unfamiliar sensation. Tears were building, blurring her large four poster bed, the chest at the foot. Her breath coming in quick and shallow and panic gripped her chest and squeezed. The sound of choking was like an echo in her mind and her hands came up and covered her ears trying to block the sound. But it continued on, the moaning of pain, the phantom scent of blood in her nose, it were as if she were still in the forest. Her clothes still damp. She sank to her knees and she let it out.

She cried and shivered with pain and shock. How could anyone do that to someone, was humanity really that cruel? Was it even a person that mauled the man, was it an animal? She didn't want to think, but she couldn't stop. Blood and death and fear rotated in her mind over and over again like a broken record. She didn't even know this man, but she pitied him, felt sympathy and compassion, and she cried for him. Silent tears slipped down her rosy cheeks flushed from the cool air and her heightened emotional state.

Minutes spent sniveling in the darkness of her room, lightened her. Slowly she came back to herself. Wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks and eyelashes and took a deep breath and rose from her place in the middle of her room.

"You've had your moment of weakness," she whispered to herself. "Now it's time to buck up, get dressed and go help your uncles and find out just what the hell a stranger was doing on their private property and what happened to him."

She walked to her wardrobe and flung the doors open with a whoosh, a determined glint in her eyes. Though her body still trembled, she was determined not to let this shake her resolve - what was one beaten and broken man, compared to Royal Hunters?

Royal Hunters were Sidhe-seer killers. Creatures, with leathery wings sent by the Fae to decimate those that have the gift to see their kind. They were the stuff of nightmares. They were the monsters beneath her bed and in her closet. The only thing she could say she truely feared.

Pealing off her wet clothes, she changed into a soft camisole and a pair of sweat pants. With one last deep breath to gather her addled thoughts and to ease the tremble in her body, she marched out of her bedroom, her air dripping and askew, a determined air to get to the bottom of things. She had a feeling, life was about to get a whole lot more interesting than term papers and butchering the Gaelic language.

* * *

><p>Christopher MacKeltar had never been so rocked in all his years gracing the highlands.<p>

But that terrified, haunting scream that had pierced the forests air no more than a half-hour ago, rattled him. Shook him to the deepest parts of his being. Never before had he heard such a haunting scream. If he had not known the tone or pitch, he would have sworn a banshee lived within those forests. After the sound of a gunshot split the air, him and his kin had split up trying to find the source and in doing so lost sight of Tessa. They left her in the woods with a stranger, a stranger that should not have been on Keltar land, especially not near the Standing Stones of Ban Drochaid - an ancient rock formation, used in their Druid Rituals.

Used wrongly and they could be used for some far more sinister agenda. Dageus had used the standing stones and had been inhabited by the thirteen evil druids that were sealed within the stones, of course the only reason he disobeyed the laws of time was to save his twin brother Drustan. It was an honorable thing, surely, but it was forbidden. Now all that knowledge, all that evil rests within the Druids body. It was a frightening thought, had the mans heart not been made from proverbial gold, he could destroy everything. Of course nineteen years ago, the souls of the druids were released from him, but not without killing him. He lives today, only thanks to Tessa's father - and if something were to happen to Tessa, he was sure the ex-Faery, could do some serious damage to all of them. Adam Black was protective of all his ladies and lad.

So having his heart lodged in his throat, was understandable. When the second shot pierced the stillness, his breath stilled in his chest. To find Tessa alive unharmed had been a relief. To find a stranger broken and bleeding out in front of her sent another chill through his body. Whatever, or whoever had done such a thing could have still been nearby. Could have been watching them. But the forests had grown still after her scream. There was nothing but them, the stranger, and the forests. That wasn't all true, he may have not been able to see them, but their presence left a shock on his skin. An electricity that made the fine hairs of his arm stand on end. The Fae watched and giggled and laughed and taunted. They were beautiful and cruel. But they did not harm in such a brutal way (well, not so much anymore, but they tended to harm in a more carnal way).

The Keltar's were warriors, unmovable stones, but he wasn't from the same stock as his ancestors who came from times where blood and war and wounded men were common place. He, a modern man, was not prepared for the paralyzing effect it would hold upon his body. Nor, the imprint embedded behind the lids of his eyes. He was a firstie unprepared for such violent displays of humanities darkest nature. But quickly as it had come, it had vanished and his Keltar blood shone true. But that didn't mean he wasn't effected.

When he had first checked for a pulse, he had been surprised when the stranger moved away, a deep moan of pain issuing from the man, for certainly a man he was.

"By the Gods, he's still conscious." He had whispered to his ancestor Cian, who had gathered the trembling form of Tessa into his thick powerful arms. They held her as she trembled at the sight, her eyes not straying. It was morbid and fascinating and it sickened him to think it was only human nature that kept him from looking away. Violence would always intrigue the human psyche. His fingers had become sticky with blood as the skin beat beneath them, it was erratic, but that wasn't the only thing he noticed. The skin seemed to quiver at his touch, like their were a pile of insects beneath his skin; it was unusual. The skin itself was cooling, turning blue from the snow and cold that wrapped around the man's trembling form.

A hiss came from behind him as his two other ancestors materialized from the shadows, muscles taunt from tension, they were ready for battle.

It wasn't very long after that that, the four of them split up again. One to take the stranger and Tessa back to the Newer Castle Keltar for it was closer to the Stones of Ban Drochaid, while the twins went off to pay tribute to The Compact. And now here he was, sitting in a chair slowly stripping cloth from a to skinny quivering body that whimpered and twisted each time his fingers managed to brush against a wound he couldn't yet see. Tessa had been sent to her get Ian and then to her room to change, whether she left was up to her. He turned his golden gaze towards Cian, whose dark gaze watched passively.

"Cian, can you go get a cloth and a bowl of water." he said. Cian's eyes flickered to him and then to the sleeping man before he nodded. His hulking ancestor left the room. Soon it was just him and the Stranger. The calm composer he had slowly slipped as he continued with clearing away to cloth. His face turned ashen and his eyes grew haunted. The scent of blood filled his nose and his stomach recoiled as the coppery scent haunted his taste buds. Taste and Smell were so well linked, sometimes it was a wonder that they were considered separate. The sound of the study door opened and quickly as his face opened, it closed. He turned and stared into the wizened face of Ian McFarley. Who glared, but not in a disrespectful way - but in a way that suggested 'this had better be worth the trouble of leaving my wife in bed -alone.' Christopher could understand Ian's current frustration, because he'd rather be at home in bed with his wife and blissfully still ignorant to this dark twist that human society hide behind locked (padlock) doors.

"Ian, I need you to get Doctor Cooper for an emergency home visit. There is only so much I can do." He said. Ian's eyes strayed to the Keltar's hands which held a strip of black clothe, said hands were stained red. And again they moved, behind Christopher, the body of a twitching human lay folded in layers upon layers of old cloth, blood soaking it and straining to damage the good leather of the seatee.

"Good Lord. Where'd ye find the bloke?" Ian questioned his eyes forever watching the stranger who choked on his own blood. Ian winced in sympathy.

"Near the Stones."

Ian quirked a brow. His gaze caught Christopher's eyes.

"Ye, think he be a traveler then? That cloth ye hold, seems rougher than anything I've seen." He gestured to the cloth and the tangled masses still on the shuddering form. Christopher turned to look at the cloth. His fingers twisted and smoothed over the cloth, the texture was rough. Not cotton or polyester.

"I don't know what to think, Ian. Just go, get Cooper, if she refuses - just tell her a man's dying, that should get through that stubborn issue she has with us Keltar's."

"I donna think it's the Keltar's she's got a problem with, I think it's just you Lad." Ian said before he disappeared. Christopher frowned after him. That was true. There was history between them, ancient history, but one that stopped her from entering Keltar land and treating them. If they wanted to be treated they had to actually get into Inverness and go to the clinic. Not that many knew about it. Maggie, his beautiful sweet Maggie knew of course. She was his soulmate. He's recited the Keltar vows. And he'd also broken the heart of a young girl in love, when the druid in him recognized Maggie.

Christopher lost in thought, was removing cloth automatically. Unaware of the piece of metal jammed beneath the strangers ribcage. With a shout the figure moved away and fell off the settee with thud. Gasps that if they had enough momentum from lungs filled with air, they might have been sobs.

It was then that Tessa walked into the room, her face ashen but determined.


	4. Chapter 3

**_Dance Upon a Faery Mound_**

**_A.N/Disclaimer/Summary: _**_Refer to Prologue. Okay for those who are actually reading this story, I took out Severus POV from chapter two. I have no idea what I was thinkin when I put that there. It totally screwed with my story and made him seem like a pansy ass. So sorry, if ya'll actually liked having it there, but no - it's gone! Also, I am vanishing the dates and times into the nether from here on out, it shall only be location now. Honestly, I have no idea is Faery skies are purple, because the book that held such info, I can't find it. And I really don't feel like searching through fever books to find a reference of Isle of Morar._

**Chapter three**

**Isle of Morar, Faery, the world between worlds.**

A soft sigh drifted upon the soft Fae wind that brought the smell of the crystal sea. Lay upon the shimmering beaches of the Fae Isle Morar, were two creatures. Human in appearance, irresistibly beautiful, and utterly perfect.

Golden hair fell over tanned, velvety skin like water, and iridescent eyes closed in bliss hiding the kaleidoscope of colors that rivaled a rainbow. The Fae sun beat down warming the strong back that rippled with muscle with each rocking movement of the males hips. Beneath him, staring at him, eyes hooded, with fiery red hair splayed across the shimmering white sands was a woman. Her pink pliable lips separated and a delicate pink tongue darted out to across her lower lip. Her chest heaved and her perky breasts bounced as she quietly erged the fae-male to go faster by wrapping her slender olive baby smooth skinned legs around his hips, her ankle flexing digging the heel of her foot into his gluteus maximus. To please her - no one had pleased her so well as Amadan had.

"Of course my Queen," came the smooth voice. It were as music to any mortal's ears, but Queen Aoibhael could hear the strain in it. He was close, but she was no where near.

"Hold on longer, love, we've only just begun..." she purred into his ear, her arms wrapping around his neck dragging herself from the soft sand, digging her nails into that smooth skin. He arched, dragging himself deeper into her and she arched meeting him and a groan fell from her lips as her eyes rolled back as a wave of pleasure washed over her senses. He'd found it. The spot that no one, but one other had found. She curled gentle lips around the lob of his ear and suckled.

With a roughness only supplied to warriors, he detached himself from her and flipped her over. Raising her ass into the air, exposing her to him, his eyes feasted on the sight before he brought himself into her heat once again. Leaning back and dragging her with him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and another around her waist, holding her to him. With each thrust, gaining speed she jerked. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, her mouth open, eyes closed and wave after wave of electricity danced beneath her skin as he continued to hit that secret, thrilling spot inside of her. And with a long throaty growl, the male, sunk his teeth into the supple flesh of her shoulder, causing her to cry out.

It was this scene a young male Faery, dressed in the royal colors of the Seelie Court, saw when he arrived on the Isle of Morar with an important message for the Queen. To the Fae, carnal acts of the flesh were quite normal, as it was the closest they would ever come to feeling human emotion. To see such acts, was as ordinary as the skies being purple (Faery). So as the male took his queen he did not bat an eyelash. He stood shoulders back, tall, and proud as befitting a young Prince of the Seelie Court.

"My Queen," he said clearly, his voice as equally smooth as the other males. He silently watched as his Queen's iridescent eyes opened, they shined with pleasure. With one smooth gentle hand and a softly given command, the male that been riding her, stopped and moved away. He sat hunched, his eyes glaring at the young Prince, his body tight and taunt from exertion, he lay erect and exposed to the world - it did not bother him. And the male watched as his Queen walked towards the young Faery.

The young Prince, swept one passing gaze over the male taking him in. Before his rainbow like eyes turned towards his approaching Queen - her skin shinning pink with pleasure, her chest heaving giving him the perfect view of her taunt nipples and the valley between her legs and he was moved like any other man would. Their Queen was beautiful beyond compare, it was an honor to be called to satisfy her pleasures.

The young prince dropped to his knee, his head bowed, his hands flat on the sand.

"Young Prince Padraig, raise yourself" she said, her sweet lit washing over him in a wave, her hand carded threw his hair. With the male equivalent of a purr he rose, his eyes taking her in. "Tell me, what news do you bring?"

"The Compact's, my Queen. The one between the Keltar Druids was a bit delayed, but it had been upheld. It is the one between the Prince's. It has yet to be paid. The others are restless, they think the prince's are declaring war." The Queens gaze grew flinty and distant. And for a moment the only thing you could hear was the sound of the waves lapping at the shoreline.

"It is nothing to fear, the compact between us and the wizards shall be paid in time. The last Prince is simply delayed. Fret not, all is well."

"But," he started.

"I said, Fret not. You will tell the court this as well. War is not upon us, not yet, and certainly not from the Prince's. They have held their loyalty to the Court for centuries, and this one is particularly honorable. He will up hold the compact. I have no doubts, and neither should you. Am I understood?" She watched impassively. She watched as that smooth, chiseled, strong jaw creaked open as if to argue before it clicked closed again.

"I understand." Padraig said. The Queen nodded, her hair as like fire beneath the suns' light. And in the blink of an eye, he shifted from sight. The Queen stared off, before a delicate grin curved her lips and she turned back towards the Male Faery, who lay erect, aroused, and flushed with desire.

"Bradach, where were we?" she cooed stepping closer and into his arms and straddled his waist. He captured her lips with his before he buried himself in her feminine valley.

"Right here my Queen."

**Cooper Residence, Inverness, Highlands, Scotland**

Shannon Cooper was awoken by a harsh rapid tapping on the front of her door. It was pure will power alone that pulled her from the comfort and warmth of her duvet. Slipping into a silk nightgown that didn't hide her generous curves, she slid down the hall to the front door like a snake in the grass, her eyes fighting to stay open. And it was pure will power alone that kept her from slamming the door in Ian MacFarley's aged and fierce face. It had been months since she had seen the servant that served the Keltar's.

The thought of those gorgeous other worldly men, cast a shadow of pain upon her heart - but it was the dominent, yet gentle gaze of tiger lilies and the silky mane that belonged to Christopher MacKeltar that thrust her into a place she vowed to never visit again. A place were passion and unrequainted love dwelled, it was the part of her she vanished years before, it was the world of a naive girl.

"Go away, Ian. The Keltar's, for whatever they need, can go into town." she whispered into the night. A scowl spread across the aged face of Ian, twisting his features.

"Listen Lassy and listen good. A life is at stake, would ye let a man die because some Lad, in his fool youth, broke ye heart?"

Shannon wanted to say yes, just so she couldn't fall into those eyes again and get lost and left in the dark like before. But it was the image of her father. A wise and gentle soul that whispered in her ear that gave her pause, that turned the yes on her lips to a no.

"No." she said sighing. "Hang on, let me get my bag and you can brief me on the situation." she said closing the door in the old man's face. With each step she walked towards her bedroom, her heart pounded and her stomach twisted at the thought of seeing Christopher again. Had it really been so long? Years had gone by, the Keltar's come from a strong breed. Sickness rarely graced their world. She bit her lip. She'd have to deal, surely, her heart no longer belonged to the man. Deep in her heart, she knew, he held apart of her that could never be removed.

Grabbing her bag, throwing away her dressing gown, she through on a pullover over her nightgown. Quickly she left, the ergency of life taking over any doubts that plagued her heart and mind. She found Ian standing beside a large black SUV, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them to fight off the cold. She eyed the large car.

"McFarely, there is no way in the pits I am getting in that monstrosity! We are taking the Coup!" she said heading towards her faithful car. Ian rolled his eyes at the fiery lass, a mischievous grin and a flash of pity in his eyes. Such a fierce and vibrant woman shouldn't be alone, they should have men and a brood of children.

_Change, _he thought, _it's coming and I don't need to be a druid master to know it. _


	5. Chapter 4

**_Dance Upon a Faery Mound_**

**_A.N/Disclaimer/Summary: _**_Refer to Prologue and other chapters. _

**_Chapter Four_**

**_New Castle Keltar, Inverness, Highlands, Scotland._**

Severus was lost in the space between consciousness and unconsciousness, his body unable to reach into the darkness and grasp it firmly - a sharp pain in his ribs brought him to awareness and he twisted away from the hands that dared to touch him.

So much pain, so many people. Severus choked in as much air as his body would allow as he rested on the carpet. He knew he wasn't in the presence of Voldemort, or the presence of Lucius or any other Death Eaters (his mark fails to burn), but he did not know if these people were friend or foe. And since June of last year, Severus had nothing but enemies. He could feel the blade push deeper into his flesh, stealing what little breath he could gather.

"...easy there, stranger..." a smooth baritone broke through the haze of pain that clouded his thoughts. He cast a blurry gaze upon the stranger, a tall stranger and broad. There was a gentle touch on his shoulder and he twisted away, pain racing through his extremities. A shiver rocked through his body, it was more than the cold that clung to his skin or the damp cloth of his clothes that hung heavily on his skinny frame.

"_Don't...touch...me_" he rasped into the air. His eyes, clouded, took in the library around him. It was richly furnished and dimly lit, a fire roared. It was homely, but looks were deceiving. Snape couldn't trust whoever these people were, there was no one left to trust in this war. Severus had always been an unforgiving man, had learned to push instead of pull, perhaps he'd have one man in this blasted war if he had let someone in. But clouded hearts had no room for people who shunned him before they met him. The Order, had heard of him, judged him, and in turn he judged them and pushed and snarled and snapped like any wounded animal.

It was his own fault, for every choice and every consequence lead him down a path no honorable man would tread. One filled with lies and death. It was on shaky legs, defiant of his own weakness that wanted to consume him, that he stood. Weakness in the face of an enemy was ones downfall. If Severus knew anything at all, is standing firm in the presence of evil. His shoulders shook and slumped as one came to rest upon the arm of the chaise he had been laid on, his hair hung limp, wet and bloodied and slicked with oils from potions fumes, it obscured his face from the patrons that watched guardedly. His arm shook as he reached across his torso towards the handle he could see, his merely brushed the hilt and a shot of electricity raced up his arm.

He hissed.

Old magic, ancient and out of this world, clung to the blade and evidently to him - he could feel it work its way deviously into the wound, curl around his nerves and through his blood and tissue. Well crap...it was with nimble fingers that he gripped the handle, ignoring the buzz of electricity and magic. He could feel his nerves frying, his muscles growing taunt, his heart pounding. He grunted in pain.

* * *

><p>Tessa had not expected such venom to slip past thin lips of a dying man. Nor had she expected him to find the strength to stand in his condition. Her green-gold eyes took in the trembling frame, it looked like a light spring wind could knock him over. What they needed was for him to get out of those clothes before he caught hypothermia and gang-green set in and infected his wounds. She stepped forward, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She glanced behind her and caught the eyes of Cian MacKeltar, who had entered sometime after she had gotten there herself. They were hard and focused.<p>

"Ye donna step up te a wild animal, Lass, without getting bit." he murmured his eyes trained on the man, like a lion in wait.

This was a warrior watching another and it sent a chill down her spine. With a gasp before her, her head snapped forward and her eyes widened and she balked, what the hell was this nutcase trying to do? Kill himself? He was pulling the blade from himself and her eyes widened further as blood slipped around the hilt, but it wasn't that, that caught her attention, no it was the sparks that seemed to bounce between him and the metal jabbed into his ribs.

"What in the...?" she breathed. Whatever was happening there was traveling and spreading out, she could feel the fine hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end. Her head swiveled around the room as she watched all the class in the room and the furniture shake as if an earthquake was rocking the very foundations of Castle Keltar.

"_Magic_..." Cian breathed, "...ancient an' earthly." His shoulders hunching, his legs spreading shoulder length apart, getting into a more solid stance. The stranger bent further into himself and it seemed like hours had passed, but it was only moments before the blade was released with a squelch and blood ran onto the chaise he lent over, the room became still again. Heavy breathing filled the silent air and the stranger brought the blade closer to his face, inspecting the blade.

"Fuck..." he rasped flinging across the room. He swayed like reeds in the wind, before he crumbled to the floor suddenly as tremors shook his body. He was seizing.

"Hold 'em down." came the strong baritone of her unofficial Uncle as he slipped past her, grabbing the mans shoulders and holding them to the ground, while Chris stilled his legs. She watched, her stomach roiling as the thin frame arched, pain carving out the contours of his face. She felt helpless, unknowing what to do. It seemed like forever, when it was only minutes, before the stranger still. His chest heaving. Cian and Chris released their hold and suddenly the stranger flipped and puked, blood and vomit onto the floor. She darted forward holding back his hair. The men around her, watched with passive eyes. The head tilted to the side and eyes lids fluttered open and her breath caught.

She had never seen such dark eyes. Bottomless black holes, filled with secrets and horrors she could never comprehend.

_**Unknown Location, Britain, United Kingdom**_

Fearghas walked with a determined stride, his cloak wrapping around him and obscured his features from the lingering patrons, who were equally obscured in their black robes and gleaming skull masks. The Manor itself was grand and dark and enchanting in the most sinister of ways, but never could it match the glow that burned his heart or the deception beneath his velvet fae skin.

Fearghus' claw like fingers curled around the heavy tome he held securely against his chest. It had taken a while to acquire the book, but eventually even Sidhe-seers fall beneath a faeries charm. Stolen from the Twenty-One Libraries located in a monastery in Dublin, Ireland. Not even the well known, Grand Mistress Rowena, could resist the deadly charms of an Unseelie. Though she had been a hard broad to seduce. Within the pages of the ancient tome, rested the secret location of the wall that would release his brethren from their frozen prison. But also it held every faery artifact - including the Cauldron. Which held the elixir that kept his people from descending into insanity. Of course he knew where it lay, just not how to get there - only The Queen knew and only she.

He just needed a bit of help and what better to barter than immortality? His lips curled up and his teeth shone in the soft light of the candles that lit the halls. Many men stilled in their ventures, their eyes roving ravenously over the Faery. Humans, whether man or woman, were so easy to manipulate. To them, the Faery were beautiful other worldly creatures, much like the wizards Veela. Except, the Fae lacked souls and all the humanity that came with it.

He shifted - his body blinking out of existence for a moment before reappearing in the ball room and before the throne on witch a Dark Lord sat. He eyed the blood pool as he walked past with a raise brow. His nose smelling the magic, both eternal and external and the pungent scent dulled to a bare hum beneath it all. Fae. Who ever it belonged to had an extensive magical lineage.

"My Lord," he purred in his velvet voice. His iridescent eyes looked into the bloody pools that belonged to the man that searched for immortality and in doing so destroyed himself and his soul in his pursuit. The man resembled his brothers the Unseelie, than any mortal or creature. Powerful and Hideous. The worst of their kind. He knew his own charms would never work on this being.

"You have it?" Voldemort hissed, one skeletal hand running lovingly down the length of the great snake that weaved in constant motion around him and the chair in a circle.

"Yes. It had taken awhile. Woman are stubborn entities, but eventually even they can't resist the Faery charm." he said, running a fine bone hand across the cover almost lovingly. His fist clenched. "All you require is here, and our agreement?" he questioned. He watched passive satisfaction, he could see the hunger that lit those malicious eyes.

"It holds."

"Perfect."

_**Standing Stones of Ban Drochaid, New Castle Keltar, Inverness, Highlands, Scotland.**_

A stiff wind blew through the forests and Dageus MacKeltar could almost hear the future on it. The Druid in his soul stirred and his eyes glanced towards the woods. But nothing ominous stirred the branches or disturbed the snow. A warning had filled him - something was changing. Something dark and dangerous and a threat to all he will ever know. He just knew it - living with thirteen evil druids had held its advantages and its consequences.

His brother, by just a few minutes, who resembled him every way except for the eyes walked ahead of him. Didn't seem to falter beneath it, he kept moving his pace steady and sure. Like a born warrior - which he was. The things he had done to keep him alive long enough for him to find his woman again. He will never regret what he had done, because in doing so it brought him Chloe. His beautiful and stubborn wife.

The Standing Stones had been there in the same place for centuries, before him and after him and will continue to stand there until the earth itself crumbles. They dripped with magic and warmth, a balm over his chilled soul. He sighed as he entered after his brother. Catching his brothers eyes, he nodded. The proceedings were drilled into them at a young age, one they each had past onto their very own children and one day they will pass it onto their own.

The ruins etched into his very own skin, black and red ink glowed as the air crackled. The snow melted as the magic worked through the stones, through the earth and through them. Their blood smeared onto the stones glowed sharply before they blinked out and magic burst outward. Dageus could feel the strength of the wards around the Keltar land reaffirm themselves stronger. Felt the protection in the air.

The compact has been paid.

They were half way back towards the Castle and to the mystery that awaited them when a strength rippled through the air. Drustan stalled merely from the magic himself, but it was Dageus that recoiled as the pain and strength of magic washed over his very mind - like a thousand screams echoing within his skull.

"What in the bleedin' fuck was that?"


End file.
